


Obedience Training

by coffinofachimera



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doggy Style, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Humor, Leashes, Leather Collar, Licking, M/M, Obedience, Oral Sex, Pet Play, Power Play, Puppy Play, Rimming, Roleplay, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffinofachimera/pseuds/coffinofachimera
Summary: Harry surprises Liam with a new dog.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am happy to have participated in the Sub Harry Fic Fest 

"Did you buy it a bed and stuff when you got it?"

"I've got it all taken care of."

"Has it got a name?"

"Uh... Yeah!"

"Yeah?! What the name?!" The elevator door opens and Liam steps through to their apartment floor first, walking backwards through the hall to carry on his conversation with Harry.

Harry just laughs, hands in his coat as he conjures his most vague response. "You'll see when we get inside," he tells him, quite smug.

Liam nods as the corner of his mouth curves into a smile, blinking his gaze into the empty hall for a second's moment to analyze that sentence. "Is it a good name?" he asks. "Or are we gonna rename it?"

"I think you'll like it." Harry motions to their flat door coming up, prompting Liam to stop and stand by while Harry fetches his keys. "I mean I like it! So..." That should be enough, he means. He digs through his pockets without much haste. It's one of his more posh ones, as Liam calls it. A slim black shape that tailors nicely to his frame, with extra large pockets for Harry to fill with all the things he always fails to carry a bag for. Snacks, tissues, Ibuprofen, his phone, their keys, his wallet, a variety of Tesco coupon clips, and other everyday miscellaneous _un_ necessities. Liam can dress quite smart as well, but he's opted for a casual tan coat that suits his light wash jeans.

Liam leans his shoulder against the wall to watch Harry's struggle, before giving him a charming smile. "Ah, if you like it that means I'll like it." He doesn't mean that. But Harry will be pleased.

"And if you don't?" Harry asks, finally holding the key ring in his hand. With no particular haste at all he begins flipping through the keys.

"Then I'm bloody well picking the name."

"No! It's a good name. I think you'll like it."

"Fine." Moving on. He gives an impatient wiggle. "Hurry and open the door."

But that only makes Harry go slower; humming as he gracefully eyes over every single key before checking the next one. "You'll like it," he assures him playfully, uselessly, with a nod. "You'll like the name." Finally, he finds the key to their home.

Liam snaps his fingers so Harry will hurry, watching him ease the key to the doorknob. He's terribly anxious to meet their new dog. "Alright. Hurry."

"It's cute."

"Oh my God hurry."

"Oh my God hurry~" Harry mocks as he unlocks the door.

It doesn't even open past an inch before Liam pushes his way through into their flat.

Harry follows, bearing a grin at Liam's enthusiasm as he closes the door behind him. "You said you liked uh... big breeds, right?"

Liam gasps. "You got a _big_ dog?!" An excited squeak broadcasts through their flat as he quickly shrugs off his coat. He kicks off his boots and runs into the living room to search the area. But there's nothing he can see. No playpen, carrier, or food bowl in sight. Though that shouldn't come as unusual— this is all supposed to be a surprise. Liam rejoices at the suitability of the circumstances. Harry's so good at arranging these kinds of things. "Where is it~?" he whines excitedly, resigning to fidgeting in place as he turns himself around to watch Harry hurry out of his own winter apparel. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Harry has more things to shuffle himself out of; boots, coat, sweater, scarf, hat. He's going as fast as he can and that's making it harder to disassemble his wardrobe. He's excited, himself. Giggling stupidly as he stays by the front door. And with that goofy grin, all pleased with himself, he proclaims, " _Boy_."

"Oh my _God_!" Liam wiggles in place, so high on thrill he's turning red. Harry comes scurrying over his way once clad in just his jeans and t-shirt, and Liam, finding himself in his way, quickly asks, "Where did you get him?" An adoption center? Some old woman on Craiglist? Familiar with Harry's boastful nature, Liam expects him to reveal something soon. If not for that, the moment feels ripe and scheduled regardless— that now is the perfect time to appease Liam's curiosity by rewarding him a highly anticipated clue; the first clue since he received that wonderful text(a picture of a black dog collar sitting on their couch, to be exact) from Harry when he got off work, followed by a ride home Liam is sure Harry only offered so he could torture him with silence when he wasn't teasing, _"Wait until he get home~"_

But alas, Harry's dedication to preserving the surprise goes on unswayed. Instead of satisfying even a bit of Liam's aching curiosity, he presses his hands to his boyfriend's chest and gives him a hard push backwards. Liam lands on the couch, to his great surprise; flustered from the belief he was falling straight to a bruised bum. And Harry snorts, red in the face. "Sorry!" It has to be the cutest dog ever if it has him acting like such an idiot. Back to giggling, and now walking backwards away from Liam. "Just wait there!"

Liam adjusts himself until he's sitting forward, elbows on his thighs as he impatiently gives another look around for sign of their new dog. "Where is he?"

"In the bedroom." And with the snap of his fingers Harry tells him, "Close your eyes." Not taking another step until Liam obeys. Brow furrowed, demanding, "Do it."

"Alright!" Eyes closed, hands up in the air in surrender. "They're closed."

The bedroom door squeaks. Harry's footsteps fade away. "No peeking!" he warns.

"No peeking!"

And the bedroom door closes.

Any other day Liam would've shamelessly cheated and snuck his way around the room for clues, afterwards slithering over to the bedroom door to press his ear to the wood and tune into whatever secrets flourished inside. But he won't push it today. And he won't spoil however many hours of planning Harry put into this surprise occasion which, knowing his ridiculous boyfriend, no doubt spanned into weeks. And beyond that, most likely months of deliberation and emotional sacrifice in his own head. Because Harry truly is exceeding above and beyond with this. Liam feels nothing short of obliged to honor that with the loyal closing of his eyes— palms on top for good measure. He'll have to express his gratitude handsomely for an even more generous stretch of time.

Because Harry adopted a _dog_. And he just _hates_ dogs.

_"Why?!"_

_"All they do is piss and shit and chew up the carpet—"_

_"We don't have carpet."_

_"—and bark and drool everywhere."_

_"No they don't! Harry, they love you! And you had a dog yourself so I don't understand why you hate them so much all of a sudden."_

_"There's the pack thing, and of course I'm at the bottom of the hierarchy. Then you have to train them, wash them— And they **break** everything, and **eat** everything, and you have to walk them outside **every** single day. If we get a dog the first thing it's gonna do is eat my shoes. Plus... trigger my allergies. A-And that's worst of all, yeah? Because you know I can't give head when my nose is clogged."_

_"But look how cute and little he is! It's a toy breed! Aw, please Harry! Come on!"_

_"No."_

_"Pleeeease! I promise you're gonna love h—"_

_" **No**."_

Harry wouldn't even let him get a cat. _"They'll scratch the couch."_ Or a hamster. _"I won't know if it's dead or hibernating."_ Or a guinea pig. _"You mean the ones that just scream? Constantly?"_ Or a budgie. _"Ha! So it can fly around and shit everywhere?"_ Or a snake. _"If you think I'm letting you defrost dead rats in my microwave..."_ Or a turtle. _"I'm not even gonna comment on that."_ Harry just didn't want pets. And it was a passionate disapproval. He wouldn't entertain even the most meager suggestion of offering their home as shelter to any animal. It was horror stories of diseases and attacks preached back to back. Sometimes he was feigning worry, but mostly he didn't bother. Just no's and absolutely-not's. Although, really, it was only a concrete law because Liam abided so easily to it— at least temporarily. The surrenders came in sessions. He would always bring the subject back to the table for consideration after some time. In general he always knew the answer would be the same. And unless Liam wanted to be ignored and banished from sex for a record-breaking timeframe, then he wouldn't _dream_ of secretly bringing a pet into their home. Because when Harry says no, it is _always_ no.

However, this is only true with Liam. And truthfully, only sometimes. A pet is just about the only time Harry's ever drawn a true, solid, and well-made line. Any other time he's all about working out fair terms; gladly meeting in the middle if he isn't running straight towards the opposite side first. He's not authoritative or selfish by any means. Easily swayed; he'll play the part of a stubborn brat when it's fun and that's really because Liam lets him, because Liam likes it. Otherwise, Harry lives to please; spineless and submissive to a fault. He sees it as more of a bane than a blessing, and by self-assumed default, Liam takes it as such as well. He'd rather have a brat to attend to if it meant Harry isn't bending to his will out of insecurity. Liam can't think of anything that suits him better.

Especially because Harry absolutely _melts_ at the attention, at the praise, at the coddling. Like the affectionately spoiled child he was growing up, deep down this is all Harry craves as a grown man. That isn't exactly the thing anyone readily admits to. Harry's less-than-pleasant core lies embedded, indeed, very much deep within. But the thing is(Harry will argue), Liam more or less seduces it out of him. An enabler, as he says. Nonetheless, he won't admit to being as needy as he lets himself be with Liam under any serious context. He claims every synonym under the word "joking" to cancel any assumption that he's actually that insufferable in principle.

And being the world's most charming yet stubborn brat with a key element of denial— well, Liam's never really had to guess where the non-negotiable no-pets rule stems from.

Harry gets jealous.

It was an issue spawned when they paid visit to old friend's place in Wolverhampton where a fluffy ginger Husky was running amok. Harry fawned over its glossy color and pretty eyes, giving it scratches and coos when it came over for attention. But it was when it came to Liam that things changed. Liam, ever the dog lover extraordinaire, won the affections of the husky with an exceptional cuddles-and-treats combo. And the husky didn't leave his side for the entire weekend. The dog performed tricks with proud zeal, invited him for demanding hours of play, and even took it upon itself to sleep on Liam's lap. Stubbornly. He was an adorable and charming creature. Harry was swiftly cast aside.

_"Where's your boyfriend?"_

_"What? Oh. I don't know."_

It was the first time Harry's ever taken second place in Liam's dominion. And it was to a **_dog_**. He sulked and ignored Liam for days, well aware of his stupidity and certainly ashamed of it. Which only begrimed his mood into an even greater state of indignancy. Liam was helpless, as he had no idea at the time. His boyfriend formed a furrowed-brow-with-eyes-narrowed shell as he shrugged and insisted he was fine. And this is the thing he does best— therefore more devastatingly. Harry is horribly keen on ignoring Liam for the sake of sparking his concern, and doing so as passive aggressively as he possibly can. This is just about the only thing that truly drives Liam up the wall— being ignored; denied communication even by the standards he shaped his life around for the sake of his relationship with Harry, who is just so _awful_ at connecting his complex thoughts to an oral manifestation. It was hard enough adapting to not having every issue in life being spelled out for him— all of which were simpler in a time before he met Harry. Liam has his limits, too. He begged for that cinematic reveal of Harry's affliction until he was outright badgering, which only made things worse. Ultimately, he backed off, leaving his impossible Aquarius lover to bask in his own childish grudge.

Until it dawned upon Liam. Or, more technically, it was dawned _upon_ him.

_"It was the dog."_

_"What do you mean the dog?"_

_"I mean he's pissed because you paid more attention to the dog than him this whole weekend."_

_"No...."_

_"I'm absolutely serious, mate. He was like a proper scorned wife staring out the window while you two played frisby in the yard. I was trying so hard not to fucking laugh, I swear to God. Christ, you should've seen him."_

_"Oh my God."_

_"I mean I didn't wanna say anything, yeah? None of my business and all. But I swear to **God**... mate... He was just pressed up to the glass just... glaring at the both of you. Glaring. He looked so fucking pissed. God, I was about to lose it— it was just the funniest thing. You'd think he caught you cheating."_

_"Well now we know why he won't talk to me about it!"_

_"That's some bloke you've landed yourself there, Liam."_

_"This is so fucking funny!"_

_"You really didn't see it?"_

_"Oh God, no. You know me— things just fly right over my head. Oh God, yeah. I'm clueless."_

_"I mean it does happen! Girls getting jealous cos you pay more attention to the dog than them."_

_"Yeah. Wow. Oh, he must be so embarrassed."_

Harry is very much threatened by the prospect of something much cuter than him taking his place as Liam's #1 priority, thus the object of his neverending penchant to pamper. Because Liam can't possibly split that gift perfectly down the middle. He can only do so one living creature at a time. And according to Harry, perpetually. But Liam doesn't know how he could ever possibly assure his boyfriend that would never happen— _"A dog could never replace you, Harry,"_ —without bursting into laughter halfway through the conversation. So he's just accepted it. No pets, no questions. He's accepted it all for years.

And today it's paid off. Liam reigns victorious. Harry finally got over his own affliction and got them a dog on his own terms. He can just imagine the two of them caring for a puppy, living in a blissful harmony. It should conquer Harry's heart immediately, if it hasn't already on account of him picking the dog and all. What breed? Liam wonders. Pedigree or adopted? Liam thinks about it all excitedly as he wiggles in his seat.

"Okay..."

Liam hears the bedroom door quietly squeak. "Is he there?!"

"Are your eyes closed?"

He snorts in disbelief, motioning to his shut eyes. "Of course they're closed!"

"Alright... Here he comes..."

Liam can hear the jingling of what he guesses is a collar or a leash— or both. His heart is racing in a jubilant _fury_ and he just can't stay still. He doesn't know where to put his hands so he places them over his eyes again as he smiles excitedly to himself. The jingling sounds closer, the hardwood floor quietly thumping. Liam laughs. "Is he coming over?!" Harry doesn't answer. "Oh Goddd..." Suddenly Liam feels something brushing over his leg. He stays still, quietly squeaking so he doesn't startle their new dog. "Oh! Oh! It's here!" Sniffing around, rubbing its nose around Liam's jeans. "Can I open my eyes?!" Liam can't wait anymore, laughing stupidly as he drops his hands down onto his lap. "I'm gonna open my eyes!" And he does.

Liam looks down between his legs at their new dog.

"Oh my Goddddddd..."

"Ruff ruff!"

It's not a dog.

"Woo _owwwwww..."_

"Ruff! Ruff ruff!"

It's Harry. Sitting on his folded legs right between Liam's, hands fashioned against his chest like paws, and biting a leash with a dimpled grin. Chestnut brown dog ears sit at the top of his head, the black collar from the text message he sent Liam wrapped around his neck with a red leash attached to the ring. No shirt. Gaze scanning down, the unmistakable pattern of a jockstrap hugs Harry's crotch.

 _Ah_ , Liam sees.

Harry gets down on his hands and knees, crawling over until his face meets with Liam's lap. And there he drops his leash, encouraging Liam to grab onto it with a gentle nuzzle of his nose.

_Ah. **Ah**._

So Liam does, grabbing hold of the leash— _Harry's_ leash. Harry sits back down and looks up at him expectedly— terribly expectedly. Biting his bottom lip with eyes bright and skin hued with adorable abashedness.

Liam has to take this in with a deep breath he never really gets to letting go, mouth agape and curved to a smile. But the smile doesn't have a real feeling to go with it. So it's a bit unnerving. Maybe he's just trying to prevent an argument from flowering when he mutters, "You really... You really had me thinking it was a dog...!" Liam wishes he could even imagine himself saying _anything_ else. He's speechless and most certainly not in the flattering way. He's smart enough to see it isn't.

Even if he wasn't, Harry has a talent for explicitly painting his mood on his face. And quite a masterpiece he creates.

Harry's eyes are dusking very slowly, his excitement all but dying away with an indignant sniff and scrunch of his nose. And then he sighs, hunching his posture. And then it comes— the vicious and, in fact, quite comical arch of his brows with a strong wrinkle in between. He's mad, and the kind he doesn't subdue with a quiet grudge. This is the kind of anger Harry holds out with his most sharp-ended disapproval. Sharp like a #2 pencil point, or particularly long toenail, or the tip of a Whole Foods carrot— nothing particularly grave, contrary to his belief. Unfortunately for him. Sarcastic, if anything. Bitchy at most.

Liam giggles in the face of doom. "Cos I thought, since you said... Get it?" So handsome and sweet, swinging the leash side to side.

Harry squints his eyes a bit while looking away elsewhere, nodding to give the impression he's thinking of something amusing that Liam knows could not _possibly_ be amusing. "Clearly I'm... trying to get at something else here, Liam." That was dry. Harry is being sandpapery-Sahara dry. His voice is so low, further signaling his disapproval— like he means to spell it out for Liam, making it easier for him to repent.

But repent he does not. Liam's giggles tune into a sharper pitch, edging closer and closer to disaster until he lets out a honky snort, "I'll say!" and throws his head back for a hearty cackle. Red as a cherry. He can't possibly see this seriously. Because with all of Harry's profound callousness, it doesn't _actually_ change the fact he's glaring at him from the floor while wearing _dog_ ears, and a _collar_ , and a _jockstrap_. "Gosh, I didn't expect this...!" He laughs in falsetto. "You really got me good!"

"It's not a prank, you fucking dick," Harry growls as he yanks his leash out of Liam's hands.

"Aw don't be like that! It's just weird." Tone so silly and little. He reaches out to grab Harry's leash again, but is met with a cold karate chop to the wrist. "Does this mean you're a furry?"

Liam's done it again.

" _What?!_ " Harry's eyes flash wide and appalled, his brows tensing tighter as if the suggestion were possible. It is. And he shouts, devastated. "No!!" Furiously rising up to his feet, stammering, "Wh— I-It's a fucking costume!" as he tries to yank down on his dog ears. "Liam!" He cries, so wronged. As if to say, _'How could you?!'_ The anguish.

"Am _I_ a furry?"

Harry blubbers angrily.

"Are _we_ furries?"

Harry trips to his feet, flashing his bare ass Liam's way as he turns around.

"Oh you've got a tail back there!" Stupidly, Liam rejoices at the fluffy tail hanging from the band of Harry's jockstrap, failing to respond hastily to the fact that he's storming away into the hall. "Nonono wait wait I'm sorry!" He jumps off the couch and runs after him with a whine. What did I say? he wonders desperately. Everything is happening so fast. "Babe!" Luckily Liam catches up to Harry even faster. Realistically, because he wanted to be stopped. Liam wraps his arms around him from the back, hugging his naked waist firmly as he mumbles in a babying coo, "I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Piss off!" And yet, he doesn't actually resist as Liam turns him around to face him, gently grabbing Harry's hands as he guides him back into the living room with a backwards walk.

"Aw, look at these ears!" Admittedly, they look admirably real. Large, pointy and fluffy like a dog— matching Harry's hair color, to top it off. Liam would wonder where Harry got them but the present circumstances are overwhelming him and there isn't enough mind power to spare for so many trains of thought. He just blindly throws everything at the wall to see what sticks. First an apology. Now compliments. "They're so pretty— you look so pretty! Where did you get these ears? And this leash!"

Harry clicks his tongue and slaps Liam's hand away from the red leash. He's not having any of it. Liam tucks his lips under his teeth and whines in frustration as he feels Harry wiggle away from his grasp, turn around and reach up behind his neck to undo the collar in a dramatic display.

"Nonono what are you doing? Don't take it off!" Liam rushes over to stop Harry from the guilting theatrics, safely rolling his eyes from behind him. One attempt to stop him and Harry ceases all activities, of course. "Harry~" Liam whines in a tiny voice, hugging Harry from behind with his chin on his shoulder as Harry puts up a dishonest fight to get away. "Talk to me. Why are you angry with me?"

"You called me a fucking _furry_!"

"Oh, you're _right_!!" Liam rushes to feign loud devastation, burying his face in Harry's skin to smother his laughter and instead give a hushed cry. "Ohhhhh forgive me sunshine, darling, baby—"

"It was _roleplaying_ , Liam~!" Harry's deep voice slides up into a wiggly, high-pitched whine.

"I know, I know, I'm sorr—"

"I-I'm not a furr—fucking _dog_! Jesus!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, please forgive me, darling?" Liam mumbles in a babying voice, kissing Harry's shoulder and rocking him side to side as he slowly pulls them back towards the couch. He can feel the tail hanging between Harry's legs brushing into his legs with every step. "Hm? I'm sorry, sunshine..." Serving every apology under the moon on a silver platter with a golden chalice and diamond silverware for good measure.

But stubbornly, Harry goes on. "You're a dick..." That was pointless. He places his hands on Liam' arms where he keeps them over his naked belly.

Liam feels the couch meet the back of his legs. Without thinking, he takes a seat with Harry still in his arms. Not the most difficult thing to do given his strength, and just about the easiest thing for Harry catch onto as he smoothly descends into Liam's lap. He's heavy, but Liam won't say so. "I am a dick, you're right," he goes on mumbling, assuming the task of finding Harry a comfortable position on his lap. "I am. I absolutely am..." They settle for a cradle— a cold one. Though Harry drapes both his strong legs gracefully across Liam's lap, he rests his elbow on back of the sofa as he rests his cheek in his hand, and keeps his other arm folded over his belly with his hand clenched into a fist. He's scorned— he must let Liam know. And Liam murmurs, "Please forgive me, sunshine. Could you ever forgive me?" Harry's leaning back a bit, too, leaving his boyfriend with little body contact. A secure hold on Harry's waist and thighs is all Liam gets. "You know I'd never mean to upset you, baby. I didn't mean any harm. I'm sorry."

None of this is working, of course. But Liam doesn't think he has the capacity to be angry even if he tried. For hours he'd been decorating his mind with the prospect of getting a new dog. That setting still lives on. Truthfully, he's thinking about other things. Does this mean they aren't _really_ getting a dog? Not even later? Thankfully he knows better than to ask. He stays trying to tame Harry, quietly exasperated and harnessing a powerful headache swirling at his temples for having to deal with such things. It's all so comically foolish and unbelievable. _Who does this?_ he wonders. _Is this really happening?_ His efforts are parallel to a folkloric gnome seducing a bitter giant out of its cave with a flute.

"Harryy~" Liam sings as he pokes the top of head in Harry's armpit. Then he pokes his face in. "Hrmphrrym~"

But Harry doesn't say anything. Brow furrowed and lips pursed as he frowns into the unvast space of their tiny living room to prove a point. He could walk away if he really wanted to, but standing by means he isn't finished with the situation. So theatrical, he is. He must make a display of his disgruntlement, hoping to inspire compensation. Liam, knowing him well enough, knows he actually expects it. It's usual when Liam is at fault. But this is too bizarre even by their standards.

Liam sighs into Harry's armpit before pulling his head away."Give me something to work with here, love. You have me terribly _confused_."

"Of course you'd be confused. I forgot. I'd have to dress up as fucking Robin to turn you on."

"Oh now that's not true... Come on now...." Liam sings quietly as he rocks Harry side to side. "...You know it's Batman who I like."

"I'll turn the flat into a cave. Flash the bat signal, and fly in through the window, right onto your cock. Then you won't be so confused."

"Don't be silly." Liam lazily fiddles with Harry's red leash. "The landlord would never let you turn this into a cave—"

Harry slaps his hand away. "Will you stop touching the leash?!"

"Well why do you have it on then? See, I'm just not understanding. You're being much too cryptic with me. What do you want me to do?" Liam just hasn't _dealt_ with a situation like this in their relationship before— the dog costume BDSM thing, if he's analyzing the situation right.

Harry's belly pushes out for a sigh as he frowns with pursed lips. Betraying that good sense he possesses by failing to understand the fact that his callousness doesn't work with the dog ears, collar and jockstrap. The only person taking Harry seriously is himself. He's just so caught up in his emotions. "I spent six months working on this... just so you could laugh in my face, and call me a furry..."

"No—"

"Liam, you _admitted_ you did!"

"Well I was quite nervous, Harry, and now that I've had time to think about it I remember I asked if you _were_ a furry," Liam explains to Harry. "I was conveying an entirely different message. See, it was a question. Right? Not a statement. I can't be held accountable for your own misinterpretation of my words."

Well, he isn't wrong. Liam lecturing Harry on the topic of grammar, of all things? Harry won't stand for it. So he scoffs helplessly with red cheeks, "O-Oh swallowed a thesaurus, did you?"

"At least I know what I'm saying." Mostly.

"Why don't I just walk out on you right now?" he suggests in a quiet tone worthy of a melodrama "And I don't come back? Can you convey _that_ message?"

"Oh you won't do that."

He scoffs. "Why not?"

"Because we paid for couple's pottery classes this Tuesday, do you remember darling?"

"Of course I remember, Liam. I made the reservations with Janice the—" Harry realizes he's been sucked into the topic switch. Too easy. "...I'm trying to prove a point."

"And what point is that?"

"That you're thick as a brick."

Liam nods, trying to understand, "Like I'm fat?"

Harry moves the hand he keeps resting on his cheek and pokes his index finger into his temple, arching that angry eyebrow even higher. And he sighs, moving on. "This collar is custom made."

Liam looks up to lay attention on the leather collar strapped to Harry's neck. _Is it even leather?_ he wonders. It looks fairly simple; one black strap with a thinner one layered on top, a single gold ring attached at the very center from which Harry keeps the leash and a tiny golden tag clipped. Liam isn't used to seeing anything around Harry's neck in a perfect 360° view— short hair and all. The length has taken adjusting to, although Liam's been enthusiastic of doing so.

But in truth, even in the context of short hair, he has no recollection of anything kinky being around Harry's neck like this. How kinky are they, really? As two twenty-something year old men in a committed relationship, sharing one roof over their heads within a perfectly harmonized lives. They can be keen on sex, that's certain. Harry, especially. Admittedly. They're just so attracted to each other. And in this moment, looking up above at Harry's appearance...

...a point reveals itself.

Liam fastens his grip on Harry's thigh through the silence, his brown eyes narrowing as his breathing paces, a new demeanor dawning in a warn hue. "It's a really nice collar." Now that Liam has time to process it... _Jesus_ , he thinks.

Harry looks so sexy.

Liam has to chuckle . Of course, he sees now. That was the whole point. It took him long enough to grasp.

"Oh I get it, thick as in stupid."

With no hesitation, Harry shakes his head. Quite earnestly assuring him, "You're not stupid."

Harry's bare, pretty little neck fashioned in a solid black restraint marks all kinds of contrasts, and outlines a million and one statements. Hard, black leather against against his creamy skin, a form of bondage on a freespirited man. Liam can't help but smirk, letting his grip on Harry's thigh slide a bit higher. Tightening his hold on his waist as he bends his hand for a lazy caress. "I'm sorry."

But Harry goes on to make his own point—still unspoken. That can't be. "I didn't get this at the pet store, Liam." Harry punctuates his quiet testimony with gripe; pouting again. He crosses one leg over the other on Liam's lap, and adjusts his elbow on the back of the sofa before resting the side of his face in his hand again. A sigh. Liam pats Harry's thigh as he goes on, "I had it ordered at a BDSM website with vegan leather and hypoallergenic fabric on the inside... You know I have sensitive skin." He doesn't.

"I do."

"I had to wait _from_ June _until_ Halloween for the ears and tail, only to find that all the dog ears had elastic ties." Monologuing his capitalist grievances in his deep mumble like he's saying something important. "Or... if they were headbands they had glitter. Or were just made of awful plastic, and were ugly. And tacky."

"Yours look quite nice, though."

Harry ignores him. "And they didn't have any nice ones online. I thought they would but they didn't. I didn't like any of them. I had to buy these at some..." he frowns, " _cosplay_ convention. Godless land, by the way. And there were so many choices. I just couldn't make up my mind..."

"They're wolf ears, yeah?"

"I don't know... Then there's the tail, which... I had to buy a jockstrap for... to attach to me somehow." This seems to upset Harry the most, as it was the most absurd arrangement he had to go through in the name of a new sexual adventure. Harry turns his head down to look at his work. He snaps at the black band squeezing into his hips before giving his ass a quick squeeze, "My whole ass hanging out..." and a flick to the tail between his legs."And I had to sew on a _loop_ for the _clip_ on the _tail_. Myself."

"You're so crafty, sunshine."

Liam catches Harry turning his head to glare down at him. All dolly with his curls and sparkly green eyes, his pouty pink lips, the tiny doubling of his chin— and yet so terribly blue, so terribly sulky with his grumbly voice. "Six months. I spent all this time, all this money planning... just so you could go and ruin everything." And this doesn't sound as if Harry means for Liam to take that too seriously. That good sense he has— of course he knows how dramatic he's being. And yet.

"I'm sorry," says Liam, face in Harry's warm armpit. "Maybe next time we should be more straightforward."

"Jesus, it was a _surprise_!" And he sighs, pulling down his voice into a mumble. "I can't keep spelling everything out for you, Liam. I'm trying to have fun." And he scoffs. "This happpens in movies all the time. The wife walks in through the bathroom in latex and a whip, and the husband takes one look and goes, 'Oh! Right! I suppose we'll be spicing up our sex lives right about now! Wonderful!' and that's it! End of story. You're apparently the only person in the world who couldn't put two and two together and instead thought I was _pranking_ you."

"To be fair, the situation differed quite a b—"

"Oh shut up."

"Maybe in the future—"

"In the future I won't do anything... is what I'll do," Harry swears to Liam very quietly, his head turned away. And more sincere with where he places his emphasis, he retracts his passion once again to murmur, quite honestly, "The only thing I'm in the mood for anymore is a nap." That might be the most unfortunate development yet. "Not even a moody wank."

Liam's surprised Harry hasn't asked him to move his head out of his armpit, or his hand off his ass. "Harry... Don't be like that... It was a confusing situation." And it still is, truthfully. Liam isn't really understanding it all— Harry can be so complicated, especially when he exaggerates. "It was weird. That's all."

Harry squints his eyes down at him and bitterly reads it to him: "You just wanted a fucking dog."

Well... "That's... th-that's not true..."

And suddenly, Liam thinks...

He untucks his head from under Harry's armpit and rests it back onto the sofa. His brown eyes fixed up at the ceiling for a brief yet meaningful ponder. "Huh." And he looks up at Harry, who spares him a glance down with the shift of his eyes.

"What?"

The sweet irony. The root motive behind the mystery presents itself again in a rebirth, a sequel. It all goes back to that: Liam caring more about dogs than Harry— at least that's what Harry has lead himself to believe. Does it bother him _that_ much? Was this really his way of dealing with the issue? Liam can hardly believe it. Or understand it, if he's even identifying the topic right. But that's never stopped him from coming to the aid of every other rescue he has no suitable expertise to qualify volunteering for. Especially when it comes to Harry.

His boyfriend can find himself bummed by both the most tritely asinine things or the most deeply complex tragedies, the latter of which Harry never does anything but internalize. Liam can never quite tell the difference between the two. There's always some kind of drama. But Liam knows Harry just trusts him enough to be so openly and childishly intolerable— tearing his walls down and all. It's wonderfully flattering. But Liam's always had a flawed way of viewing things. If anyone were faced with the same plight he finds himself in, they wouldn't be trying as hard as he is now if they bothered at all to entertain Harry's concern. Harry would've been left to storm off into the bedroom with no one to stop him out of guilt.

 _"I don't think people would like me if they knew what I was really like,"_ Harry admitted to Liam one day, draped in a solemn smirk. What's Liam to do? Harry sinks into the most stupid cases of sorrow. And Liam always dives down to his side for a rescue, not caring for a moment of the possibility that he could be setting out on a mission to seal his own demise in the face of an issue too pathetic to warner solving. _"Oh come on don't give him any attention,"_ he imagines someone would surely tell him. _"Tell him to get over it."_ Liam could, so easily. _"You're not his slave."_ Melodramatic problems without solutions— no one else would bother. But Liam knows well that Harry would never be this annoying with someone else. He'd bottle his sorrow and let those 6 months of effort decompose into a disappearing act as he changes out of his costume, showers, and takes that emotionally exhausted power nap as he clocks out for the day and lets the cloud of melancholy materialize.

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"Okay."_

And that would be the end of it, surely.

Liam couldn't imagine _ever_ accepting that outcome. He's had enough peeks under the drawn curtain to know what Harry's hiding.

He's certainly no master manipulator or tyrannical selfish twat. Just a dramatic, needy, and unspeakably emotional man who's adapted to hiding it until he's silent, private, and a pleasant enigma without a care in the world. And that suits the whole world just fine— the most likeable, charming, easygoing lad in the room of every room he's ever stepped foot in. It's how Liam fell in love with him in the first place. But the farce began to show its seams just as certainly. And Liam— well, he never managed to fall out of love in the aftermath. And Harry, so overwhelmingly relieved at last— well, he never stopped opening up. Now he's _often_ annoying, _often_ complicated, and _often_ hilariously contrived with what issues he finds strangling his wellbeing.

Liam's subconscious speaks in a moment of pure reason: _'Right, so he got in his feelings because you might possibly like dogs more than him. Brilliant idea he's come up with to solve that— he wants you to treat him like a dog and fuck him! What a bloody perv! He's out of his fucking mind. And he's the one giving you shit for not catching on? Jesus, tell him to fuck off.'_

No, it's fine. Liam insists without hesitation. Harry continues to suit him just fine. His exes always said he was pathetically obsessive, anyway.

_"You're fucking suffocating, Liam! Give me some fucking space to breathe, yeah? Just leave me alone for **once** , Liam. Just **one** day. Would you get a life of your own?" _

_"Sorry I didn't— I thought you... I'm sorry, I don't know."_

It seems he's found someone who needs him as much as he longs to be needed. Melodramatic or not, Harry's honest and he's flawed and he simply cannot help it anymore than Liam can help being in love with him, bearing flaws of his own. Why would he be with someone if he could only tolerate them with a mask spread across their face?

Harry simply _needs_ help constantly— very well. He's upset because he wanted to have a kinky evening with his boyfriend and he blames him for spoiling his plan and coloring him embarrassed— very well, then. Liam never varies in his approach to tending what's important and what isn't. It's all worth his best and most sincere show of effort. But most importantly, support.

And that's really just Liam. That's why Harry loves him so much. And why they've been happily together for nearly 7 years.

Liam's forgotten what they were talking about. Silence falls upon them. But thankfully, not between them. Harry's betrayed his pledge to hold a grudge with little remorse for his actions, mostly wanting comfort from big biceps in the wake of disappointment. He's fallen a little into Liam's arms, looking relaxed and hopeless like a maiden— a maiden wearing dog ears, a leather dog collar, a jockstrap, and a tail.

And Liam understands.

"A dog, eh?" Worried Harry thinks he's mocking him, he interjects, "That's thoughtful! Whips and latex are quite tacky anyway. Beginner's stuff, innit? You went for... intermediate level. Aren't you creative!"

Harry shrugs, barely moving his lips to mumble, "Well you've never known me to be boring, have you?"

"No I have not." Liam marks his tone with loving sincerity.

He feels bad, now— phase two after realization, it seems. He's thinking about how excited Harry was when they first arrived home. And really, alright then, it's all his fault. Liam's never so quick to assume wrongful blame if he ever likes to assume _rightful_ blame at all— that unfortunate victim complex leftover from his primary school bully-target days. But Liam's twenty-three years grown now, and the roots of new priorities shape his ways. If there's any other bad habit Liam calls his own, it's his inability to ever accept seeing his boyfriend in bad spirits. Because he's hopelessly in love with him, of course, and sees him as a heavenly forest fairy angel— which he absolutely is. Harry is a sweetheart. And yet, he embarks on a terrifying descent when he finds himself upset. Liam cannot possibly stand to see that as right. Not on anyone, but certainly not the love of his life. He spoils him. Worships him. Of course. His quest is bound to manifest in new ways.

Admittedly, Liam didn't get that until now. 6:12pm on an early winter's Friday.

"If you're my dog, then that makes me your master, doesn't it?"

Harry chuckles as he looks down to meet his eyes, giving Liam a flick on the nose for wiggling his brows suggestively.

"Something of the sort, yeah?" And Liam's trying to get at something.

Harry gives a dimpled smirk sprinkled with coyness he only keeps for himself. "So you could dom me for once..." he mumbles.

A confession. But is it really? Liam thinks to himself. Of not much anything but surely something signifcant. Liam would like to think so.

"It's not... where I pretend I _am_ a dog, alright?" And Harry shrugs with just a pinch of shame when he says, "It's... you treat me like one...."

He thinks on Harry's intentions, spinning them to explore its dimensions and test its weight. This is hardly an expert ability of his, but Liam can't help but try since he has Harry's ass in one hand and his waist in the other. Liam would like to...

...assume a role for a moment. Yes, he would like that. Would Harry? He hums, pressing his lips onto Harry's chest. "Play with you," he murmurs quietly as he strokes Harry's thighs, "and give you attention and belly rubs, hm?" He's teasing, exposing him somewhat. A pinch of humiliation gifts the room with a new aroma. Experimental. The results prove to be favorable.

Harry seems to melt in the shifting angle, relaxing his weight more with the turn of his body, and curling up against Liam with an arm over his shoulder. He's so heavy, prompting Liam to adjust his hold on his body. Harry's firm and soft, skin folding at his stomach and at his waist, biceps bulging when he reaches out to play with his own leash. Liam's calculating everything. Mapping out his actions, very much pleased with himself.

"You're suuch a brat..." he murmurs.

Harry gives an amused giggle, looking down at his hands as he plays with the leash in between his fingers. Liam keeps quiet again. The air settles before he turns the dial another notch.

"But you're still a good boy, aren't you?"

Harry's lips twitch into a smile, looking away at the ground while Liam drags his fingers across his thigh.

"You a good dog?"

What does Harry say? Suddenly blushing and biting on his lip. He says,

"Yeah..." with a little laugh. Embarrassed of whatever it is they're doing.

Liam strokes him, pets him. Up his back and down his waist. He touches Harry's hand and traces over his knuckles until he's pulling his fingers free from his grip on the leash. Now he's the one in control. Harry looks down at his hand and watches how he plays with it; how the eagle tattoo moves with the shift of his knuckles, how his tendons roll side to side. Liam squeezes the leash, and coarsely marks a statement in the silence around them.

"Good dogs don't sit on the couch."

Harry's expression softens. "What?"

" _Off._ " It's a command. Strong and distant. Liam unhooks his arm from Harry's waist and pushes him away. Harry isn't quick enough, so Liam snaps his finger and says it more sternly with his finger pointed to the floor. "Off! Down!"

No dogs on the sofa.

In woozy urgency Harry gets down on the floor just like Liam tells him. The moment doesn't register smoothly, stunning him a bit while his cheeks turn red at how seriously he obeys. He blinks down at the ground, helplessly trying to make sense of his own reaction. But it just spins his head more. He's been immersed in his own game. Sudden, switched. It excites him; red-faced and bright-eyed. And Liam can see.

"Aw, good boy." He praises him with a smile for being so quick to obey, his tone transformed into something different— something less. He wears an elementary enthusiasm, looking down at Harry as he gives a pat to his lap. "Come here."

Harry stutters his next move again, not sure of how to play.

Luckily for him that's what the leash is for. Liam gives it a tug that pulls hard on the collar around Harry's neck, forcing him forward. Harry can't help but laugh, delighted. Liam laughs with him and calls him over again in a playful voice, smiling. "Come on, boy. Come here."

Harry's scarlet coyness flushes down his neck as he lowers his head and slowly crawls over on all fours. Like a dog. The tag on his black collar jingles with every stride, his tail swishing across the back of his thighs until his face finally meets with Liam's lap.

"Good boy..." Liam rewards Harry with an affectionate rub to his head. He runs his fingers through the silky brown curls before ruffling through them gently, lightly scratching at Harry's scalp as he smiles down at him warmly for being so obedient. He goes around the pointed ears at the top of his head and then right behind it like he would a real dog. They're clips, Liam notices. They grip onto Harry's hair securely and keep the ears in place. Liam can go all around them, running his fingers through the short curls as he pleases.

Liam wonders how this fantasy must have panned out in his boyfriend's head. He can't say it's ever crossed his mind— treating Harry like a dog with the intention of fucking him later. Unfortunately, a plan fails to present itself to him the way he had anticipated. He doesn't know how to navigate around this fantasy, around exactly what it is Harry could want from him, the way his role suggests he should. That's all he wants to do, so desperately. The full treatment. But right now all he can do is observe every response— letting his boyfriend guide him without letting him know, without stepping foot out of his part in the play.

Harry is _unraveling_ at being treated like an animal. Liam is entranced by how deep he manages to sink on his own. He moves his hand toward's Harry's face to caress him in slow touches. Tracing his thumb across his cheek, across his bottom lip. Harry melts right into his hand, arching his back just a little as he crawls one tiny step closer. "Such a pretty dog..." Liam praises him, watching Harry's ears turning pink in arousal, or maybe embarrassment. The suggestion of the latter snaps a quick shiver under his skin, fascinated by his own power as he cradles Harry's head against his thigh. "Are you a pretty dog?" His gaze travels down Harry's smooth back all peppered with beauty marks, down to the black jockstrap that hugs his soft hips tight and squeezes around his bare ass. The brown tail clipped to the the band falls right down the center, tickling his hole as it swishes across his skin. Liam rubs his hand up and down his back slow, massaging him, feeling him.

Harry moans and spreads his knees apart more. And he pushes his face between Liam's legs. "Mmmh..." Rubbing against his crotch slow and sleepy. Liam gets goosebumps again, tightening his hand around the leash as he pets Harry's hair, his face turning red. And then he chuckles to himself, and suddenly plays his next hand.

"No." He scolds Harry again. This time he's caught him bare, vulnerable, and deep in character. And it dents a bigger impact on him than before. Like he would a real dog, Liam broadcasts an unfeeling air as he pats the back of his hand on Harry's cheek to harshly shoo him away. Harry's breathing hiccups in his chest as he crawls backwards a little bit, awkwardly, his gaze down at the ground. His head whirls into a dizzy and a throb comes down between his legs. Before he can think— "Sit." Another command in a deep voice. Harry isn't quick enough. Liam snaps his fingers and yanks at the leash. " _Sit._ " And what it is doing to him. Harry sits himself down on the wooden floor again.

Liam's praise comes immediately. "Good boy!" Both hands cupping Harry's cheeks, gently scratching behind his ears as he smiles down. Harry can't help but beam so beautifully, his eyes bright and drowning in thrill, in lust. He looks at Liam as he tilts his head into his touch. His erection is growing harder in his jockstrap. Liam's taken note. He moves his hands away and scoots forward on the couch. "Let me have a look at you."

His dog.

Pointy brown ears poking through his curls, a long fluffy tail clipped to the back, a black collar around his neck— reduced to an animal, to a dog. Seeing Harry this way is surreal. And he's in Liam's control. Surrendered to his very mercy. Harry sits on the floor with his legs folded under him, his body leaned forward as he keeps his hands in a loose fist on his thighs. Liam keeps his legs apart so Harry sees where he isn't allowed to be just yet. And he wraps the leash around his hand one, two, three times. Short leash; Liam's terms.

"What's this say here?" He reaches for the golden tag hanging from the ring on Harry's black leather collar. Holding it between his thumb and index finger, he reads, "Harry." And he laughs. "You seriously..." got a BDSM collar with a custom tag engraved with his name on it. Fancy. Harry's smiling up at him, his green eyes glassy under the heat of their game. Liam goes on playing. "Your name's Harry?"

"Ruff!" A proper little bark befitting of a cheery dog.

Liam laughs at his enthusiasm, "Yeah?" He shifts in his seat on the couch, bringing his head lower as he touches over Harry's collar. It's crisply made; clean and expensive. And it's tight around his neck, barely stretching out with every hard swallow he gives. Basic knowledge in dog care forces Liam to dip two fingers under the collar to check the tightness. Maybe that's part of his act, maybe that's just him making sure. "This too tight on you?"

But Harry doesn't reply. Instead he tries to nuzzle into Liam's hand again with a pout. Like he doesn't know what he said. And it's Liam's turn to feel dizzy as his skin flushes all over again. He resists the urge to whip out his dick and just jack off already— because they aren't even at foreplay yet. He feels so shamelessly bound by lust, mesmerized by Harry's acting and even moreso by his response to it. They're really doing this. Liam just pets his boyfriend again. "You're cute, aren't you?"

Harry giggles, crawling closer and quickly sitting back down.

"Shall I keep you, Harry?"

Harry licks a stripe over Liam's hand. Wet, warm. Liam smiles and offers his hand before Harry's lips to see what he does. And again Harry licks him with a dimpled smile. His tongue laps at every bit of Liam's hand with messy enthusiasm. But his pupils blow wide so quickly, and he begins to lazily kiss Liam's skin. Back to licking, then again to kissing; over his knuckles, his fingers. Until he dips two in his mouth. Harry just slobbers over them. His tongue is sopping wet as he licks them slow and chews on them just a bit. Plush lips glossy with drool and flushed deep pink like his cheeks. And he's so turned on, shifting his hips on the ground because he can't stand to be so hard without touching himself. It beats a drum so primal, Liam's brown eyes darkening as he watches Harry strip himself down raw. His gaze locks with that glossy green staring up at him right between his legs. Liam pulls his fingers out slow before letting them back in Harry's mouth. And he sucks on them lazily while Liam plays with his mouth. In. "Yeah?" And out. "You like that?" And Harry hums, bobbing his head back and forth as he sucks on Liam's fingers. Licking over them again as drool runs down his chin and Liam's wrist. But Liam pulls away, eventually, wiping the spit across Harry's mouth just to get him messy.

And then Liam just sits back.

Harry whines.

Liam snaps his fingers in his face. " _Shh._ "

Giving just to take away. Patience. Training. Another adversity just to see what Harry does. Right? Liam wishes he could ask. Am I doing good? But all his loving uncertainty is masked expertly, looking friendly yet distant at the same time— the stoic master Harry longs more than anything to be obedient for. Harry sits panting and contained, his brow furrowed as he goes on to anxiously shift in place. Desperate. He won't speak. Just keeps squirming, pleading for attention with nothing but his eyes. Liam doesn't budge. He keeps it all in place in a pleasant front, and things stay quiet as he starves him a bit.

Until Harry starts to whimper.

"What?" Liam teases.

Harry whimpers again, and paws at Liam's leg.

Liam cocks his brow. "Want me to pet you?"

And Harry's eyebrows curve up as he whines louder, less human, begging in voiceless wanton. His eyes go wide just a little when Liam scoots forward and leans down close to him. Gazing down at his pet from the spot he sits on the floor. He wraps the leash around his hand until there's only less than a foot of freedom to give. And his soft palms cup Harry's cheeks— this is where he'll stay. Nothing to say. Harry pouts, clenching his fists to on his lap. 'Please,' he could beg. 'Please touch me.'

Liam kisses him. It's their first kiss of the act and it's as electrifying as the prospect could suggest. Harry kisses like he doesn't know how, going for Liam's tongue with hunger and no thought to his actions. He moans so different this time; deep in his throat, loud as he straightens his back and pushes his face forward into Liam's. But Liam pushes back harder, his inked biceps clenching as he keeps Harry in his place and asserts his dominance.

Harry becomes unhinged and desperate, bringing up his hands to squeeze Liam's crotch. But it's so masochistic of him— hoping Liam will scold him again. And Liam knows this well. He pushes Harry's hand away and yanks back on his collar until he cries out under him as he's arches his back. "No," he warns with stoicness. "Bad dog." Keeping Harry's head held back with the pull of the leash to demand submission. Harry bites his bottom lip and whimpers, surrendering as he lets his hands fall back down. He goes so weak, melting as Liam cups his cheeks, soon kissed again. But Harry won't be good, he won't be perfect. He straightens his back and lifts himself to his knees so he can get close and hump Liam's leg. He mewls desperately into Liam's mouth, never daring to use his hands.

Liam pulls back with a chuckle, still cupping Harry's face. "What do you want, boy?" he teases, letting Harry press against him hard as he whines. "Hm? What's wrong?"

His cock is hard in his jockstrap now— Harry couldn't make it clearer. But they both revel in the game of charades. All Harry wants to do is break distance, crawling over to his master as his tag dangles from his collar. He pulls on his leash stubbornly, the metal jingling as he struggles to bring his head down, whimpering because Liam doesn't let him. But curiosity inspires him to give in, and he unwraps the leash from around his hand to give Harry more freedom to move. Shamelessly he nuzzles straight into Liam's crotch, whimpering like a dog as he mouths over his bulge. But he shies away quick, knowing he's been scolded once and not wanting to be a disobedient pet. So on Liam's thigh he rests his head, pouting as he whimpers.

Liam scratches behind Harry's dog ears. "What is it, boy?"

Harry licks up the crotch on Liam's jeans, looking right up into his eyes.

"Do you want the stick?" He laughs, his own face turning red at his words. He palms at his cock through his jeans. "Yeah?"

"Ruff!" Harry barks with a grin.

"Gotta get it hard first..." Liam scoots forward on the edge of the couch as he tugs at Harry's leash. "Come on." Harry pushes down his face between Liam's legs, and mouths over the outline of his erection through his jeans. "Good boy..." Liam sighs, his cock fattening and hardening under Harry's lips. Slowly he pulls down the zipper, and pushes his jeans down to his ankles. Harry nuzzles his face against Liam's underwear, kissing over his dick. Liam rubs at the outline to guide him, wanting Harry's tongue over every inch of it. The collar around Harry's neck tightens around his throat as Liam pulls on the leash. Sadism has to play a part; stalling and teasing him like this just to build his appetite. "You want it?"

"Mhmm..." On his hands and knees Harry licks along the shaft, his drool soaking through the navy blue fabric and leaving a dark patch. Bound and mute and so hungry for cock he's sucking at it through Liam's underwear, moaning as he digs his own hand under his jockstrap to tend to his erection.

He gets what he wants soon enough. Liam's thumb dips under the hem of his boxer briefs before pulling down with the lift of his hips until his hard cock pops free. He kicks off his jeans, his underwear— naked from the waist down. "There you go..." Liam breathes as he sits forward off the back of the couch and grabs his cock by the base, pulling it down towards Harry's mouth. Fully hard and throbbing in his hand. Harry doesn't wait. He claims what he wants like a heedless, thoughtless animal, licking up a stripe from the bottom all the way up to the leaking tip. No technique, no plan.

"Fuck..." Liam moans, watching Harry swirl his tongue over the slit of his cock before closing his eyes and taking the whole thing in his mouth. His pet moans, thrusting his hips at nothing, letting the drool slide out the corners of his mouth and run along the veins of Liam's dick. He slurps obscenely, eyes rolling back under his closed lids. "That's it..." Liam coos, breathing deep and slow as he ravishes in the heat of Harry's pink and plump mouth, at the impossible wetness of his careless tongue. "Good dog..."

Harry moans back, content, lazily rocking his hips just to feel his tail against his hole. The jingle of his tag drives his lust to an angrier shade of red passion. All Harry wants is his mouth full, something to suck and drool on. He pushes down his head and swallows Liam's cock, gagging at the base as his face turns red. He pulls back teary eyed and coughing, lips flushed and wet with spit he gladly spreads on Liam's cock for another kiss, another suckle on the head. And he deepthroats him again, gagging until he's breathless. Poking Liam's cock in the back of his throat and cutting off his own air before pulling up with a gasp, a whimper of desperation. He dips his head down hard and gags again, keeping still as he chokes before pulling back up in a daze. Tears in his eyes, nose red, whimpering at how good he feels. Thick spit's welled at the back of his throat and he leaves it all at the head of Liam's cock for him to stroke onto the length until it's dripping, squelching, wet from top to bottom. Harry's never sucked him off this way before. He places his mouth back and slurps sloppily on his cock, looking up at him through red, wet eyes. Lewd bliss drowns him, his most primal desires driving him forward blindly.

Liam holds his cock by the base, his other hand wrapped in the leash. "Open," he says with a tug to Harry's collar until it yanks his head back. Harry opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. Drool runs down the tip and onto the couch between Liam's legs. He pants, his knees aching from his weight. Liam slaps his cock over his wet tongue, keeping Harry's head still with a firm hold on his leash. Until he yanks it forward, and his cock if poking the back of his throat. The veins in his arm are bulging, his tattoos dancing with the twitch of his muscles. "Stay," he orders. Harry curves his brows up, breathless and fidgeting as the collar locks him in position. "Good _boy_..." Liam drops his head back against the couch with a moan, his toes curling as Harry's throat spasms around his cock. His jaw clenches, his thick brows knitting together as he keeps Harry suffocating. Until he forces Harry's head back with another yank on the leash. "That's a good boy." He gives Harry's cheek a few slaps and Harry grins, mewling until Liam pulls forward on his leash and chokes him with his cock again. He doesn't get to catching his own breath before Liam does it again and again. Yanking back, pulling in. Harry's red-nosed and wet all over his mouth, blinking away the tears welling in his eyes until they stream down his cheeks as he breathes hard. He keeps his back straight, always crawling back into place. So eager to be dominated again, commanded. Harry lets all the spit come down Liam's shaft until it's sliding over his balls; never swallowing. So out of it and disoriented, his green eyes glistening wet and red around the iris as he looks up.

Liam can't resist bending down to give him a kiss. He underestimated how wet it would be. Harry moans, keeping his hands on the ground as he does his best to make a mess. Liam pulls back, holding Harry's face in his hands as he looks down into his eyes. "Who's a good boy?" he coos with a grin.

Harry admires him drunk, out of breath, giggling. "Ruff!" It beams in his eyes; the glory of adoration, the thrill of primal praise falling upon him while he wobbles on his knees.

Liam kisses him again, sloppy and loud. And he unwraps the leash from his hand, reaching down to pull Harry's tail aside so he can squeeze his ass. "Now use your words," Liam tells him. But Harry closes his eyes and buries his face in Liam's neck, instead. Licking him as he pushes himself against him. He doesn't say anything. He didn't realize he had to. Until Liam gives him a hard spank and growls, " _Speak_."

Harry whimpers but he doesn't do as he's told, arching his back as he spreads his legs just so he can rub his hole against Liam's fingers. He can't remember what Liam said, like his brain's no good.

Liam spanks his ass again hard with the backwards yank of his leash. Harry arches his back with a cry. "Who's a good boy?" His voice is so deep and loud, confident and terrifying from the low place Harry keeps himself. "Eh?" He slaps his ass again, wrapping his other arm around Harry's chest to keep his back arched.

The words don't come to Harry, suddenly forgetting how. Liam gets his fingers covered in spit and plays with his pink hole to drive him deeper into disorientation. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and moans, his hand coming under his jockstrap to stroke himself when he feels Liam's finger slide in. And he bends it, knowing exactly where to play with Harry's sweet spot. "Mmmh!" Harry mewls, biting down on Liam's skin.

Slipping another finger in, Liam jabs Harry's prostate over and over again until he's shuttering and moaning in his arms. "Hm?" He growls into his skin as he fingerfucks him hard and too fast for him to think right.

"M' a good b-boy...!" Harry whimpers desperately as he bounces on Liam's fingers.

"Are you a good dog?"

"Yes!" Rolling his hips down, feeling how Liam pushes onto his prostate. "I'm a good dog, I'm a good d-dog...!"

Liam lets himself come back and kiss Harry's jaw, sliding his fingers inside him more gently, despite Harry's best efforts to get him fucking him hard again. "Wanna get fucked, don't you?"

Harry tilts his head to lick Liam's face; over his lips, across his cheek, his nose. "Yes, sir... y-yes, master..."

 _Master_? Liam chuckles and pets Harry before turning his head and kissing him again. Harry licks over his tongue, wiggling his ass so his tail swishes contently. But he's pulled back from contact again as Liam sits back and pulls his shirt off. Harry isn't thinking; instinct taking over as he leans forward and licks over Liam's body. Liam wasn't expecting it, bringing his hand down to stroke his cock as he moans at Harry's enthusiasm.

"Master..." he mewls lovingly. Liam's bulked and cut so handsomely, sculpted as the body of pure discipline. Harry worships him with his mouth. The ridges of his muscles, the smooth hair running down his pecks, the center of his abs.

Goosebumps spread across Liam's pale skin as pulls on Harry's leash. "That's it..." How he groans as Harry kisses his pecs, his nipples, licking over his muscles as he travels down to his pelvis. Liam ruffles his hair and pulls back on his leash again. Harry lifts his head, sitting obediently as he looks up at his master. "Lie down," Liam tells him. Snapping his fingers, pointing to the ground while his other hand strokes his cock. He doesn't have to tell Harry twice like before.

This time Harry honors his command like a well-trained dog should. Once Liam lets the leash go loose, Harry moved back and drops down on his back spread-legged. His tail lying between his legs, hands curled into loose fists as he holds them against his chest. Harry's cheeks are bright red, flushed all the way down his heaving chest.

"Aw, good boy." Liam meets him down at the floor, cutting the length of the leash again as he wraps it around his hand. And they kiss. Harry barely at all, mostly sucking and moaning as he thrusts his hips up at Liam. The contact is minimal. Liam holds himself up above Harry on his hand and knees to keep distance, with only his other hand to offer Harry the stimulation he craves. Every inch of skin shivers under him. He runs it down Harry's chest and then back up. Kissing him slow to force another withdrawal on Harry, and he can only push his chest against him helplessly. Liam keeps his movements tedious and teasing, though he presses so hard. It jumbles Harry’s actions with every stroke. Down the sparrows, and then down over the butterfly of stomach. He moans, rubbing him with his palm flat, up and down in quick motions. Desire's made his skin so feverish, sensitive to every touch. Harry relishes in the appropriate belly rub, adoring it as another characteristic that marks the rules of their game. “Who’s a good dog?” Liam coos. And Harry grins against his lips, thrusting his groin upwards towards him while his hands lie beside his head.

Aroused at praise for a dog. Submission, training, humiliation, rewards. It forces itself over Harry again and again. And he moans into Liam's kisses, pulling his knees up as he begs in a high pitched whimper to be given attention between his legs. Liam pulls back and sits up instead.

"Roll over," he tells him, stoic in the eyes. Harry's in such a daze. How he moves, sounds, responds. The tag of his black collar jingles as turns over on his stomach. Liam quickly taps the side of his thigh. "Up." On his knees. Harry spreads his thighs apart and presents his ass to Liam with the arch of his back. The fluffy tail hangs down the crack of Harry’s ass, serving as an ironic censor for what the jockstrap doesn't cover.

The sight before Liam blurs his track of thinking. And his role disappears from him in a moment of assured privacy; Harry unable to see him from behind. His eyes soften with naive wonder. Liam keeps himself up on his knees as he strokes his wet, hard cock and takes in the view. Everything is so new— it's hitting him in another wave again. A tail, a jockstrap, a pair of dog ears, a collar, a leash. "Good dog..." Words that feel as natural as the air he breathes. What a good owner Liam is.

Humming as he tightens his fist around the leash, his other hand comes over Harry's ass. Harry shivers at the first contact, goosebumps running across the flushed skin as he whimpers and tries to push back. The collar jingling, his knees knocking on the wood. Liam runs his hands down his waist. Dipped narrow, soft with tender skin. And down the length of his tail, feeling the pricey soft fur rustling across his palm. It suits Harry’s hair color so well. Liam squeezes his grip around the base of it and pulls it aside.

"Look at this ass..." Liam breathes, his gaze dark and focused. Now Harry's exposed; vulnerable with passivity, his naked ass spread in an obscene display. Liam's cheeks are burning red, flushed down to his chest as he stares hungrily at Harry's hole. He spanks him, squeezing his ass apart.

Harry barks without meaning to before giggling drunkenly. A shiver runs up his spine, dropping his weight down to his elbows. The arousal of exhibitionism overwhelms him. Thoughts scatter by like mirages vanishing as quickly as they're perceived. All there is is _desire_ ; feeling, images, sensation. The capacity to think outside of submitting to physical pleasure has thinned down to the last thread. "Master..." he whines before lessening his voice into dog mewls.

"Be patient," Liam murmurs as he rubs his hand up Harry's back then back down to his thighs, back up again. He swallows and stares down with a burning gaze, licking his lips as he spreads Harry’s ass apart again. And he lowers his face, "You be a good boy..." and digs it into Harry's ass.

" _Fuck_..." Harry's voice breaks into a weak pitch, his eyes shut tight and his eyebrows curving up. "Oh God..."

Liam's tongue laps obscenely over Harry's hole as he pushes his face in. Moaning, eating him out. Hunger has never come as animalistic as this. The essence of their roleplay bleeds through into the bone of Liam's own disposition. Of inhibitions gone, positions of power; eroticism, ownership. One hand on his cock, leash slack as the loop hangs from his wrist, while the other hand holds Harry's tail aside. Liam makes loud, wet slurps over his hole, his cock bouncing as it leaks precum onto the floor. Harry's taste is always so sweet, twitching eagerly against Liam's lips and tongue as he buries his face in his smooth ass. Harry desperately writhes against Liam's motions, rolling his hips and rocking his body backwards so his hole rubs over his mouth and nose. Getting eaten out always breaks him. His lips parted and his voice so frail. Something about the vibrating of Liam's moans on his skin, the strength of every motion of his jaw, his neck, his tongue. Liam squeezes the cheeks hard and spreads them before bringing them back to press against the sides of his face. Spanking him, grabbing him by the thighs and forcing him in place. He pushes his tongue against Harry's tight rim and groans, already fervid under the weight of his role.

And he pulls back, licking his lips to swallow his taste. He lifts the hem of Harry's jockstrap and moves it aside until Harry's cock and balls are free. Liam's knuckles move to the inside of Harry's thigh with a tap, and another command. "Up."

Harry pushes his weight back up on his hands to balance himself steady. He lifts his leg up to the side with the knee bent. And he can't help but giggle to himself, recognizing the position well. Liam crawls over until his head is under Harry, upper body rested on his elbow. And without hesitation he takes Harry's cock in mouth. He bobs his head back and forth, sucking him off hard and quick. Harry cries out as his breathing hiccups. His thigh is quivering as he holds it up to make space for Liam. And Liam is relentless— swallowing Harry with lax passion. His hand reaches up to Harry's ass, his finger encircling his wet hole. Just before pushing inside him slow, easy.

Harry's eyes open, his vision foggy as he struggles to make his body work. His cheeks are flushed and his curls damp at his hairline. The leather collar on his neck has rubbed across the skin so much it's burning and sensitive. Vulnerability and humiliation wash over him from the position, feeling thought slip away from him as he submits eagerly. He's voiceless even if he wanted to speak, moaning in the dawn of a new wave of lust. He begs silently and cries like a dog as he thrusts his hips back when Liam eases a second finger in, and then forward to slide his dick into his mouth. His tail shifts against his thigh, the tag of his black collar clanking against the ring with every motion of his body.

Every bob of Liam's head carries the same pace as he fingers Harry. Sliding two in and out, scissoring his hole so he can stretch out for him. Liam's lips are flushed around Harry's cock, eager to have the hard length leak in his mouth. The position is so new and thrilling. Knowing Harry goes on to loyally keep his leg up so high makes him moan as he takes more of him down his throat before pulling back to the head, over his foreskin. He drags his lips down the underside until he's at the base, kissing the space between Harry’s balls and his dick just to feel him shutter on top of him. Liam fingerfucks him harder, writhing his fingers inside until he massages his prostate with unforgiving pressure until he has him yelping like an animal. Just to pull away.

"Down," he tells him with a tap to his knee. Harry obeys quickly, dropping down his wobbly thigh with a hard knock to the floor. "Good." Liam pets Harry's head and scratches behind the pointy ears at the top of his head. Harry pushes his head into his affection, but it's taken away so soon. A canine whine comes as he pouts and drops his head to the floor with a huff. But the snap of Liam's fingers sends him up straight, eyes wide and alert for the command to come.

"Get it wet, boy," he breathes, yanking coldly on Harry’d leash as he brings his cock to his pet’s lips. Harry desperately takes it in his mouth. By sheer love alone his eyes find their place above, looking at Liam for approval of his actions. Liam scratches his scalp, down the nape of his neck. "Good boy..." Sweat has settled all over his skin as a godly highlight over his muscles, beading over his hair and dripping down as he moves. Harry lets saliva well on the surface of his tongue as he sucks Liam off. It forms a wet, hot hole for his cock to slide in and out of, hardening the shaft as stiff as it can get. When Liam pulls out Harry lets it all slide over his cock so he can spread all over. Liam rewards him with a gentle caress across his cheek. But his assertion comes back, now more second nature than ever.

He pulls on Harry's leash gently but firm, sliding his collar up his throat as he forces his upper body off the floor. Elbows tucked back, limps wrist as he tightens his hands into paws against his torso and shifts on his knees. Being at face level with his master is exciting. His eyebrows turned up as his green eyes grow warm with puppy-eyed innocence. And Liam smirks, asking, "Want me to fuck you?"

Harry licks his face, giggling at his own audacity. "Ruff!"

It's such an adorable and sweet gesture. Liam laughs with him as he watches him wag his tail. And he’s so proud of himself, loving that Harry is enjoying this so much.

Adapting to arrangements always come as an easier course of action than he expects it to be. Liam wonders if it counts as some kind of kink of his own— proving his loyalty, being of service, engaging in situations he would have otherwise rejected had he not been a man in love. He can't say the suggestion of pet play has ever contributed to a private masturbation session. Always has been the wholesome flavor of vanilla. But his love for Harry seems to sit in a loophole. Does he get off on treating Harry like a dog? No. Does he get off on making Harry enjoy himself as he caters to his fantasy of being treated like a dog?

Absolutely. His cock is pulsing, his face flushed, and his heart pounding as Harry licks his face and wags his tail. "You're fucking mad..." Liam chuckles in a way that lifts the veil of their game; breaking character to just smile endearingly at his impossible boyfriend.

Harry pulls back on his leash until Liam lets it give distance. Betraying obedience to be mischievous. Naughty with a coy smile.

“Harry…” A playful warning of disapproval as Harry tends to his own will. Dropping his weight down to his hands and quickly turns around until his ass is keenly presented to Liam. And Liam is beaming, taking only the greatest pleasure in positioning his hips at the perfect angle right against Harry's ass. "Like this, eh?"

"Ruff!" Leading a trail of excited whimpers as his tail wags between his legs.

Doggystyle.

Liam dives back into character. He grabs hold of his erection and begins to stroke up and down the wet shaft. Harry arches his back when he feels the tip rubbing at his hole. A fresh flush of heat turns his face a deeper shade of rose, and sends his heart skipping in his chest. A more fiery enthusiasm takes over him when he feels the head sliding inside him. So tight, still, to really suit Liam's girth properly. It's always such a delicious sensation. Harry moans, closing his eyes as he sinks down to his elbows again.

" _No._ "

But a harsh yank to his collar stops the breath in his throat with a hiccup, and he's forced back up to his hands with a whimper. Liam demands obedience. And Harry eagerly complies.

"Good boy..." Liam groans with the furrow of his brow as he slides his cock inside. His breathing is hard and heavy, the red leash looped tightly around his hand as he squeezes down. "Stay." He pushes slow, wanting to savor every second of this first fuck. The way the muscles on Harry's back move with every deep breath taken in and out, the tail hanging off him, the leash connecting them in opposing statuses. Alpha and omega; dominance and submission. The leash is stretched so tense there's no way for Harry to move. Stillness; that'll prove to be quite difficult for Harry— the feeling of fullness overwhelms him, reducing him to mewls as he fidgets helplessly. Liam pays close attention to how Harry responds to him. "You a happy doggy?" Roughly translated to, 'Does that feel good?'

" _Yes_..." And Harry moans with his bottom lip tucked under his teeth as Liam slides inside deeper, breathing out in a whimper when his cock is finally buried to the base, hips against his ass.  
Liam drops his head back, brow furrowed. Harry clenches around him as his hole stretches, rolling his hips to have his cock writhing inside. But the pace is Liam's to set. He cocks his head to watch Harry's face as he pulls out slow, careful as any guardian should. Harry parts his lips and holds his breath in his chest when Liam inches himself back inside with gracefully anchored ease. This is the part where his muscles relax, where his eyes roll back under his dusked eyelids and a moan slides past his strangled throat. Mannered with stillness like a show dog. Collared, tagged and claimed. Monitoring his breathing, leaking precum down onto the floor.

"Good boy..." Liam slumps over to reward Harry with a kiss from behind. Harry keeps his head turned, sucking on Liam’s tongue, making noise with his wet kisses to Liam's pouty lips. And Liam's hips pull back before sliding in again— and that tiny, delicious whimper he tastes in Harry's mouth surges his heart with enamored passion. Such gorgeous obedience. "Such a good boy..." he moans into their kiss as he fucks him steadily, slumped on top of him. The position makes his thrusts deeper, harder without meaning to. Harry's back twitches against his chest at the increasing speed. Liam lets the leash go loose. As a reward, perhaps. His own pleasure lights his skin, dampens it with heat. And he starts to fuck Harry hard. Kissing him as he whimpers under him.

The pointed ears at the top of Harry's head remain in place as he lets his head hang down. His neck is weak and aching, his arms trembling as he holds his own weight. There's nothing he can see. Just the feeling of cock pulling out to the tip before being rammed back between his thighs. It's a deprived and lonely position and it feels rightful. The longing is what settles. How his cock hangs neglected and his body is beginning to tire. Harry's never felt this good. Liam's dick slams inside him again and again, pushing his body forward before yanking him back by the leash. A pet to his master— he begs to have his demands met. "M-Master..." He whimpers like a dog before sticking out his tongue and panting.

The oral fixation—of course. What dog could be without? Liam brings his hand over to Harry's face and dips his fingers into his mouth. Harry slobbers over them happily, spreading his knees apart as he thrusts back into Liam's. No swallowing, no mind. Salivating like a hungry animal, bobbing his head back and forth as he sucks on Liam's fingers and gets fucked on all fours.

Liam squeezes down on the base of Harry's tail, blinking sightlessly at their living room as if he were immersed in the setting at all. Harry's drool is sliding down his wrist, his tongue sliding between his fingers, his lips kissing at the tips. It excites him terribly and he has to wonder why. "Good boy.." His voice is dry and husky, his groans tightened and amplified until he's growling into the skin of Harry's shoulder and biting down. Every desire coming into play. Liam pounds Harry until he's nearly collapsing over. The tinkling dog tag, the leash in his grip— it dizzies him into a drunken daze that weakens him at the core.

Until he pulls his hand away from Harry’s mouth and finally he collapses on top of him, letting go of the leash as he fucks him onto the floor. Harry's arms give out on him until he's lying with the side of his face pressed into the floorboard. Brow furrowed deep as he whines, arching his back and rolling his hips until Liam’s cock is brushing against his prostate. Unknowingly teasing, setting electricity running through Harry’s loins. Liam fucks him hard, knocking the breath out of him as his cock slams in and out of his hole. The tip of Harry's cock is blushed and wet, ignored in masochism as it throbs and aches against the floor. Harry can feel his balls twitching as Liam's cock finally presses its length across his prostate.

"Breed m-me... Master...” He needs it more than anything. The most primal, instinctive drive an animal could have. Mating— it's what this is. It wouldn't be fair if Harry didn't get his share of seed. “Please...” The way he sounds is surreal. Liam forces Harry’s knees further apart out until his body sinks down nearly onto his belly. Just enough for Liam to place his hands on the floor on either side of Harry’s torso, and slam his hips forward with the weight of his body. Immediately his orgasm begins to boil, as if he were the pet at the mercy of his master’s commands. That may be the biggest irony. Harry’s getting close, and Liam knows there’s a way he wants to drop off the edge. The dog ear clips still manage to keep their place, the tail ever so easily resting down Harry’s outer thigh. The golden name tag taps on the floor again and again, and it adds as a sort of accent to the mess of moans that vibrate through the air. Harry’s sweaty knees sink him down helplessly as Liam thrusts his cock inside him. Panting and whimpering in submission under that tightly toned body. “Please, please, please…” he begs in shattered whimpers, licking his flushed lips.

 _Yes, yes, yes_ , Liam thinks again and again. He fucks him faster, harder as he kisses the skin of his back. His thighs are aching, the tight pace of his thrusts tiring him exceptionally. And that’s a bit terrifying—that he may not be able to finish what task he bestowed upon himself with honorable control. It shows in his voice how desperate he becomes. That rich, creamy voice now broad and hard at the surface. He pushes Harry’s head down into the floor, his other pushing down his back. The new position draws a whine from Harry as he tries to thrust his hips back to meet with those hard strokes. Clenching his hole, begging in whimpers as Liam snaps his cock with rapid, vehement thrusts that send him cursing as his eyes squeeze shut.

And he cums. Never slowing down. His body gives out on him until the weight of his body presses Harry flat against the floor, with nothing but his ass kept propped up for use. And what delicious purpose; filling with cum. Liam’s thighs quiver with every thrust, his abs spasm as he buries his face in Harry’s skin and fucks him through his climax.

Harry’s body shivers, feeling Liam’s cock pulsing as he spills inside his body. The jabbing of that fat cock, the slapping of his balls against the blushing, sweaty skin of his ass. Every breath is drawn in and out without pace. Dominated until he’s a thoughtless, crying creature making a mess on the floor. His pale, smooth skin shuttering as his hips come forward, and cum spurts helplessly onto the floor. It’s nearly painful, to feel the ache and shuttering of an orgasm with only the cold floor to offer comfort. Harry’s always so handsy with himself, fondling and rubbing every inch of his skin. Liam is still thrusting on top of him, drawing out whimpers out of Harry that sit small on the surface of his labored breathing. Dominated; pinned to the floor as if he were just the weakest thing in the world. Harry mewls for the sake of it, curling a bit against the floor when Liam finally slides out.

Liam’s face is gorgeously flushed, his brown eyes still so heavy under the veil of his part in the play. He moves back, still on his knees. His gaze falls on Harry’s ass where his cum is running down his balls and onto the floor, his tail matted with some of it. Without thinking, maybe as his final act, he reaches down to rub his fingers in it, feeling how it sticks to his skin. And then he brings it to Harry’s lips. Like a treat. Harry eagerly licks Liam’s fingers with graceless hunger as he pushes himself up to his elbows. Swallowing the seed he was so desperate to have inside. His glassy eyes catch Liam’s, shaped to look so innocent. And Liam can’t help but smile. Out of character—breaking it completely. Harry returns the gesture with a blushing smile of his own, leaving a kiss on the tip of Liam’s fingers before dropping his weight on the floor again and covering his face as he laughs.

“Hey…” Liam teases with a grin, bending down to move Harry’s hands away and press a kiss to his dimpled cheek. Can hardly breathe, still. But the rest of the world comes back to him slowly with every bit of his arousal that fades away. What do I do now? He wonders stupidly as he lies on top of Harry and ruffles his curly—mostly damp—hair. But another good idea comes to Liam in spite of his exhaustion.

The buckle of the leather collar shifts and tinks as Liam undoes the strap on the back of Harry’s neck, until finally it comes off. What’s revealed is a thick line of flushed skin going all the way across Harry’s neck. Liam gives a playful frown and a hiss. “Ouch.” Before dropping an apologetic kiss to the feverish flesh. “Sorry.”

“I’m good…” he mumbles before sighing with a stretch.

“You good?”

Harry snorts, turning his face to the floor again. “I’m very good…” he giggles.

“Did you cum, sunshine?” Liam asks sweetly as he cranes his neck over to Harry’s crotch. Admittedly, he’d forgotten all about that sacred duty. It would be such a great shame if he didn’t. The possibility makes his stomach give a nervous shift.

Harry rolls over on his back and gives Liam the peace of mind.

Liam is excited. "No hands!" he celebrates the great accomplishment with a goofy laugh and a flash of his teeth. Cum sticks all over Harry’s stomach and at the tip of his rosy cock. Pride beams across Liam’s lips, the sensational reality settling in his heart as he gives another kiss to Harry’s cheek for no real reason. Other than joy.

"There it goes… Ego trip."

"You're a slut, Styles. You know that.” Liam teases as he lies down beside Harry on the floor. “I don't think I've met a more kinkier person in my entire—“

"Either 'more kinky' or 'kinkier', darling. It can't be both."

He’s certainly back to his old self. Liam stammers silently before letting out a sigh. "Nothing like a grammar lesson after sex to make me soft." How very Harry. He elbows him affectionately before moving over to rest his head on his chest. But Harry won’t have that. He pushes Liam off his chest and instead rests his own head on Liam’s with a sigh.

Liam wonders if he has, in fact, solved Harry’s problem. If there was a problem it all. It might be the afterglow of his orgasm hazing his mind in muddled waters capable of nothing less than simplicity. Suddenly the motive seems to unclear. All he has is the memory. _Wow, I really did that_ , he thinks to himself in bashful amusement. But pride returns just as quickly. _Wow, **I** did that._ No one else. Not bad for his first time. He’d ask if Harry enjoyed himself, unknowingly so fond of destroying the possibility of any such sexy post-sex wind-down with questions and meaningless discussions when all Harry wants to do is fall asleep.

But Harry prompts it himself. "We have to do this again,” he says as he picks at the cum stuck to the fur of his tail.

"Is one ticket to hell not enough for you?" Liam has to fake a sense of shame. Maybe just so it can inspire a blush of embarrassment across Harry’s cheeks, giggling stupidly as he suggests,

"We can switch it up. I'll be a—"

"No."

"—a cyborg."

"No."

"A sexy uh... truck driver."

"No."

"Or a... a duck."

"No."

"You can wear flannel and a beard and... shoot me down and... take me home and roast me. Duck Daddy."

"What the fuck."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave kudos and share with me your thoughts.


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